Flux
by our lives matter
Summary: A/U. Just to prove our girls can fall in love in any circumstance.


_Just to prove our girls can fall in love in any circumstance. _

**Flux**

/noun/ _continuous change_

Amy tosses her cigarette on the pavement and crumbles it beneath her shoe. A cold breeze flushes her cheeks; she pulls her cardigan closed across her chest and slides the sleeves over her hands. A lose thread dangles past her fingers. She nervously fiddles with the nondescript fabric.

Her parents standing on each side of her. Her step-father holding every piece of clothing she owns in a customary Gucci luggage bag. She thinks this is it. Thinks she'll never get a chance to meet her baby brother. Thinks she'll be in here forever. Her eyes become blurry as they fill up with tears at the thought of never seeing her family again. Not that she liked them much anyway; at least that's what she pretended.

Lauren hangs back and throws her sunglasses on. She was never one for sad goodbyes, and this is definitely one of those. Amy thinks she will miss her the most. Wonders who she will watch the Twilight Saga marathons with now. Starts to think they probably won't even have televisions in this place. It's probably against the rules.

They have a lot of rules here. She read about them all during a recent Squirkle search. No gum, no sneaking out, blue pens only, no tank tops, only running shoes, no razors, lights out at 8:59pm, no cell phones, no internet access, no visitors, only reading material approved by the board, hair must always be tied back, sleeves rolled up.

Amy chokes up remembering that last one. She understands the concept. Understands they need to make sure no one still slices their wrists. Understands they need to check, but worries about her wounds that haven't healed yet. Hates showing them off. Ashamed of what others might think of her. Then she quickly decides they're there for similar reasons; they have no room to talk. Thinks they will talk behind her back anyway. She knows how people are. Knows the only one she can trust is Lauren.

She stops moving, twists her head back. Knows that Lauren is more than likely crying under those sunglasses. Knows that those tears are for her. It gives her some sort of satisfaction. Comforts her uneasy mind. Amy's lips form a slight smirk and her step-sister nods in approval.

Her head whips back toward the front of her body. Takes a deep breath and sighs. Her mother rings the doorbell. Amy starts to wonder why there's a doorbell; she remembers the rule about no visitors. She figures the reason for it are moments like these. The moments when unaffected mothers toss their ill children off to a group of strangers. She begins to wonder what they're like, these strangers. Hopes there are no men.

Knows that if there are men, she will most likely continue her bad behavior. Continue with cutting, the coke, the weed, the drinking. Amy read somewhere that the first step is to find your trigger. She already knows what that is. Not that she's ever told anyone. Thinks no one would care anyway. People are only out to protect themselves. She never understood that concept, every man for himself. She would rather save someone else's life rather than her own.

An older woman answers the door. Besides her goofy haircut, Amy thinks she looks nice. She immediately bathes in the fact that this woman hasn't been following the rules. She's chewing gum and has her hair down. She wonders if this is the woman she has to answer to. Thinks if so, maybe this place isn't as bad as it appeared when she ran her Squirkle search.

"Amy Raudenfeld?"

Farrah answers for her daughter, "yes."

Her step-father throws the expensive luggage bag at Amy's feet. He gives her a short nod, similar to his daughters, and leans in for a half hug. "Here kiddo." Throws her a wad of 50's, "See you on family day." Walks down the steps and demands Lauren get in the car.

Amy thinks it was nice of him to pretend to care. Must of took a lot, considering he doesn't even do that for his own daughter. Not since she was 5. She stuffs the cash in her pocket and turns to her mother.

"Well, this is it then."

"Yeah I guess." Amy responds, sounding defeated. "You'll call me when he's born?"

Farrah cusps her daughters hands in her own and places them on her very pregnant belly. "You'll be the first one." She hugs her.

She wonders why they've never hugged like this before. Wonders if they had hugged like this, maybe she would have felt safe enough to tell her mother what happened. Maybe she wouldn't have tried to take her own life 14 days ago. Amy decides she's still angry with Farrah and pushes her off. "Bye."

The older woman, now with an uncomfortable expression on her face, picks up Amy's bag and hands it to a young man who has been standing directly behind her the entire time. She tells him to bring it to the girl's wing. Amy didn't realize this was a coed facility. Decides shes uneasy about what could possibly go on here.

"I know what you're thinking." She touches Amy's shoulder and forces her inside the building. "There's boys here."

Her eyes widen. "How'd you know?"

The woman chuckles, "It's what everyone thinks when they first arrive. No worries, this is a very strict and respectable place. The boys rooms are to the left and the girls to the right." She announces, giving the blonde a general tour. "There's a total of 23 students. 8 of which graduate this year, including you. And since you're just arriving there's a lot to catch up on. You get tutored for 3 hours a day, group therapy twice a week, you get a single session once a week, and the rest of the time is yours. Contingent on your behavior."

Amy tries to keep up with all the information. Hopes these next six months fly by.

"I know you don't want to be here. None of you do. But our hope is that by the end of your treatment you're successful. We want to transform you to the person you want to be but are struggling to become."

She thinks she just wants to go home.

The young man she sent off with Amy's luggage returns. He's average size, has thick rimmed glasses, looks a bit depressed. "Amy this is Oliver. He will show you to your room. I'll see you again for dinner." She smiles, "I'm Penelope. I'm glad to have you with us."

Oliver gives her a strange look. He doesn't say one word, just walks away. Figures she'll just follow him. She looks around at the facility. If you didn't know who lives inside, one could assume it's just a normal house. There's a kitchen, a living room, a dining room, 2 bathrooms. She thinks that's not nearly enough toilets for 23 people. Assuming half of them are female. Girls take forever in the bathroom. She found that out when Lauren moved in. Starts thinking about Lauren and decides she misses her already.

"This is your room." Oliver points down the hall to the last door.

Amy gets distracted by a flash of red. Walks away from Oliver and follows the color to the living room. Her eyes immediately widen, her mouth lay slightly open, her mind frazzled by hair. She'd never seen that color on a girl before. Not too fierce, not too bland. Not natural. Decides the owner must of dyed her hair. Maybe a natural brunette?

Her eyes widen even more as they lower to the owner's face. Absolutely beautiful. Thinks she needs to know this girl. Thinks maybe, just maybe this place won't be complete shit after all.

* * *

><p><strong>Please tell me what you think. <strong>


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